It's Not That Hard To See, But No One Looks
by The Stunning Lies of Lullabies
Summary: Draco is not allowed to feel, Harry must save him. Yeah, I, like every other writer in the world, suck at summaries.
1. Metaphors and Broken Rules

It's not that hard to see, but no one looks  
  
(disclaimer: I borrowed from J.K.Rowling, stole from my imagination and have to live with the fact that this will never happen. Fictionalities work like that.)  
  
The young boy in the corner shows no emotion. He is trained, practised, and perfected.  
  
He is cold.  
  
But at night, he hides in his room. At night, he feels. For him, emotions are forbidden, giggles and tremors are a luxury he cannot afford to indulge in. Feelings are a polished stone on his dressor, that he's not allowed to touch. But at night, he picks it up and cradles it in his hands and cries, giggles, shakes, and dirties it. He sits in the corner holding it tightly to his chest, keeping it hidden from the world.  
  
He is in this same position when he wakes up, but, like all other days, he cleans it, and replaces it on the counter. His personality detached, mannerisms formal, emotions cut off. He just waits for the day that someone sees the fingerprints, waits until someone sees the tears. 


	2. Goodness

This is to TheRealDeal:  
Fuck. You. All I have to say to you is this, shut up.  
  
Faggot:  
(Variant of fagot) noun  
1. A bundle of twigs, sticks, or branches bound together.  
2. A bundle of pieces of iron or steel to be welded or hammered into  
bars.  
  
verb, transitive  
fag·ot·ed also fag·got·ed fag·ot·ing fag·got·ing fag·ots fag·gots  
1. To collect or bind into a fagot; bundle.  
2. To decorate with fagoting.  
  
[Middle English, from Old French, from Old Provençal, possibly from Vulgar Latin *facus, from Greek phakelos, bundle.]  
  
You have my permission to kill yourself now, because, no matter what you do, and no matter what you say, I won't stop writing, so you can kiss my fat ass. On another note, I'd just love to see how you write, I mean, since, apparently I'm shit at it. But you're the coward, remember? You're the one who signs insulting reviews under annonymous names. So, next time, prove something that you can do better than me and I'll give it to you.  
  
On a happier note, to MustIBeAMalfoy, because she has given me support (and is an awesome slash writer)  
  
I lay on the floor, not moving, not feeling, cold.  
  
Tests. Training. Pain.  
  
He is only testing my endurance. This is not punishment, no, this is forgivness, this is telling me he is pleased with me. This is what goodness feels like. This is why I'm glad that I'm not Potter.  
  
At night, these days, I am confused.  
  
I used to know what to feel. Until I was fifteen, father never layed a hand upon me. I was supposed to be kept soft and angelic, for Voldemort. I was meant to be his, if you catch my drift.  
  
Then, on a whim, one day the Dark Lord told father to beat me for all of my previous sins. Not that many, but father always was one for the dramatics.  
  
Turns out Voldemort didn't like seeing me in pain as much as he thought he would, nor did he like the scars that he knew would appear. Turns out our *beloved master* was a fucking Hufflepuff.  
  
He told the other Death Eaters to take me, the disgusting wretch, out of his sight. He said he never wanted to see me again, and that my –services- would not be needed.  
  
If this is what goodness tastes like, I've had enough, I wanna be bad.  
  
But...Potter.  
  
He-he's so innocent and pure, how can he stand this, this goodness?  
  
Is this what goodness really is?  
  
"No..."  
  
"What did you say, boy?"  
  
"This isn't it..."  
  
"What? Fantasy? No, young man, this is love."  
  
Cruel, mocking laughter. Biting me, clawing me, hurting me.  
  
Goodness sucks. 


	3. The facade begins to slip

I didn't like this chapter that much, I might repost after reading it through a few times. It just doesn't sound right to me. It's a first draft anyway. Although, it is much longer than the others...ONWARDS!!!  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----  
  
Stealth.  
  
Voices speak softly in the night-time air, of evil and treachery.  
  
I'm here to bring you down, Malfoy. I will bring. you. down. Count on that.  
  
I'm going to take Malfoy little into protective custody, and you cannot do anything about that. My mind's eye of late seems to have taken to observing Lucius Malfoy as well, when I sleep. I have seen him do horrible things.  
  
I have seen him perform not only spells and curses...but he even attempted an enchantment! Thankfully, he is not strong enough. Lucius Malfoy is a strong wizard, no doubt, but Enchantments are a gift given to those of specific lineage.  
  
The part that stuns me, always, is that...he was performing them on someone who, although animosity has been shared, deserves none. Yet, you have fooled him into believing that they are goodness and love. You sick perverted-  
  
Stop thinking like this, Potter! Get your head out of your fucking ass and get on the job; no way are you going to ruin this because of your idiocy and inattentive mind.  
  
Walking slowly down the hall, I kept my wand in a firm position, proven to be ready for a fight.  
  
Duels are no longer used. Wizards have become attracted to Guerrilla warfare in this age. The War has taken its toll on us all, especially with Necromancers being found every day. They were fickle at first, when deciding which side to choose. And we had to be careful about our actions and reactions, Necromancers are complex creatures.  
  
Voldemort is and always has been too easy to read. Anger, hatred, etc. Dumbledore intrigues them; we now have their full support.  
  
:: "Mister Potter...you're even more beautiful than I imagined..."::  
  
:: "Pardon?" ::  
  
:: "Go to him, he hurts..."::  
  
:: "Who?"::  
  
But he was gone. The snake had glided out of the picture and fled from Harry's site.  
  
"Fucking snakes" Harry muttered under his breath, "'S why I wasn't made a Slytherin."  
  
Shoving my concentration to the task at hand, I slowly rounded the corner and saw Malfoy, Avery, McNair, and Goyle just in time before their heads shot up.  
  
Stunning McNair and Avery, I killed Goyle on the spot.  
  
"Lucius." I stated, concealing every emotion ever felt for him.  
  
"Excellently executed, Mister Potter. Yet, I was half hoping that you would have forgotten my name, although, you would seem to remember me. If you take into account the number of times you would have seen my son in the throes of agony, that is." A light, pleasant smile had worked its way onto Lucius's elegantly patrician features.  
  
"Malfoy, one of us will die tonight, please tell me who you believe this to be." A slightly sick grin had manifested upon my face, and I knew that.  
  
"Why, Mister Potter, I know, yet, why don't we put my theoretical beliefs to a test."  
  
Three and a half hours later, at one-thirty in the morning, Lucius Malfoy was upon his knees, fourteen meters from me.  
  
"You...will never...win...you bastard...child. Heh...orphan bitch...go prostitute... yourself...you cauc...asian...male...whore. At least...we know...you take af...ter your...mother." Malfoy raggedly gasped.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Mother fucker. I hope hell is warm enough for you. Borre la sangre."  
  
With that spell uttered, Lucius Malfoy paled continuously for the next minute, until he turned to dust. His entire body disintegrated to ashes.  
  
"NO!" a hoarse and distraught shout echoed around the room.  
  
Draco Malfoy ran in, covered barely by a sheet. He ran to his father's side and let his body fall to the ashes. Crying silently and shaking uncontrollably on the pile of residue, Draco Malfoy broke down.  
  
I, not knowing what else to do, picked Draco up and brought him into the nearest bedroom.  
  
"Draco, I know this is hard for you to understand, but I had to put him away for the sake of goodness."  
  
'Goodness...' one thing entered in Draco's mind.  
  
"Goodness...Goodness..." repeating and repeating.  
  
"Yes, Draco for good-"  
  
"GOODNESS IS NOTHING!!! GOODNESS SUCKS!!!"  
  
Draco kept screaming for three more minutes, until he broke down in sobs.  
  
"Draco, Lucius was evil..."  
  
"He loved me."  
  
"No, Draco he didn't love-"  
  
"You're right, Harry." Draco's whisper was getting softer and softer.  
  
"I am?"  
  
"No one loves me..." His voice faded out.  
  
"No...you're wrong..."  
  
Draco was fast asleep.  
  
Silently, Harry brought a chair over to the dressor, so that Draco had all the space he needed while he could keep a good eye on him.  
  
Silently reviewing the conversation, Draco's tone of complete and utter self-contempt...  
  
Wait.  
  
Harry?  
  
Borre la sangre- (Spanish) Erase the blood  
  
Kalinta: Thank you. You were a great help to me, and really funny (comic relief is a plus) I've thought things through, and here I am. As they say, the show must go on. Sorry for the wait!!!  
  
Willow-nymph: Draco's Gem, hmm, I might work that into the story somehow, Ah! Just got a case of the Ponderings, anyway, I'm glad you liked my story.  
  
TheTigersFire: Yes MA'AM!!!! (*sets to work on next chapter*) thanks for being all "Get over it and write cause that's what's important" it helped, SQUEE!!!  
  
MustIBeAMalfoy: Can you imagine how grateful I was from a message from the QUEEN!!??!! (you, just in case ya dinna know) You were the first on my favourites list, SOMEONE LOVES ME, SO BACK OFF BIZNITCH!!! (sorry, just a message to the HATERS *mutters embarrassed excuses about her love of that word*) If you could see me, I'd show you my happy dance (I learned to click my heels, yay!)  
  
Shadowcat9: Thankyou. That's all I can say, thankyou so much for giving a damn and writing to me. You were so nice, I'm grinning like an idiot right now cause I can't find the words to express my gratitude. Thank you.  
  
THIS ONE IS FOR ALL OF MY REVIEWERS!!! I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU!!!!  
  
-Pirate- 


	4. Miles To Go Before I Sleep

The forest is lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
and miles to go before I sleep.  
-Robert Frost-  
(Stopping by woods on a snowy evening)

* * *

The moon sits high over a ripe sky full with stars. A dark man watches a boy of fair sleep, never disturbing the bittersweet slumber.  
  
Looking around, he sees the Stone. A gem of beauty so simplistic, yet outrageously elaborate. The dark man knows not what to make if it.  
  
There is an ambiguous light upon the bauble as the moon flutters around it, catching the Stone's perfect flaws.  
  
Magnetism. One can fight and fight and fight, yet no matter what, when they give in, it will always feels good. To be drawn in, a feeling that you are wanted, it's addictive.  
  
The dark man walks over to the sparkling jewel, reaching out to touch it, yet he is halted.  
  
Hovering his hand over the seemingly forbidden gem, he senses the magical aura around it. Sullied Purity.  
  
The magnetism begins again, and he instantly grasps it, becoming flooded with memories that are neither his own, nor familiar to him.  
  
They are remembrances of the fair boy's troubles.  
  
Horror after horror are shown to the dark man. Memories of terrible sadness and shame become revealed to him. Tears, giggles, fear, hatred, ambivalence, confusion, depression...  
  
Nothing that we have taken for granted, as long as we have lived, is shown here. This boy, so young and lonely has lived a life we cannot even imagine.  
  
The dark man crawls into the large bed with the fair boy, curling his arms with the others'.  
  
"I promise..." he whispered to the tense face of the tortured figure.  
  
Do you know what the dark man saw in the fair boys' gem?  
  
Adversity. An entire life filled with dark half-emotions and one downward spiral.  
  
Pureness is not measured by what one has been put through, rather what we ourselves have commited. Remember that, and do not blame the fair boy.  
  
For he has had enough of that, believe me.

* * *

So...what did you think?  
  
Tell me how you think what Harry saw in Draco's Gem (thanks willow-nymph). I've been toying with the idea of revealing them in dreams...alas! Send me your ideas! I've had major writer's block, so I'm sorry if this sucked, I kinda had to force it out. Love ya!  
  
Pirate Bitch nut  



	5. Amongst Chaos, Slumber is Derived

The two boys sleep.  
  
Amongst a world of cruelty and pain, and in a house of darkness and agony, they slumber. Side by side, they speak unworded promises to each other.  
  
One promises to protect, to guide and reassure.  
The other swears to heal.  
  
The Dark Ones' hair blends into the Fair Ones' as he snuggles closer.  
  
The Fair One lies on his backside, almost turned away from the Dark One. The Dark one lies on his side, facing the Fair One, frowning slightly.  
  
The Fair One lies when he promises, but only because he does not know that the Dark One speaks the truth.  
  
Nor will he know till morn dawns over the world. He will not know untill he sees what has been put inside of his jewel. Feelings he has never known. Ecstacy, nostalgia, happiness, true laughter...  
  
Love.  
  
All of this has been placed there, for him. No one else will ever know, except the Dark One and he.  
  
Dark and Light. Ambivalence. Destruction and Construction. Depression and Perfection. Death and Life.  
  
Truth and Lies.  
  
Will we ever really know the difference? Maybe, just maybe, it will all start with them.  
  
The Dark One unconiously clasps arms with the Fair One.  
  
Amongst a world of cruelty and pain, and in a house of darkness and agony, they slumber.  
  
The two boys sleep.  
  
. 


	6. Never

If you look beyond the vines   
spy behind the strings.   
You will see a fallen angel   
Who has lost both his wings.

He screams to his god, hurt   
"Why? Why pick me?"   
Does anyone respond? Nay   
For it is only you who sees.

As he cries for himself   
Flowers spring from the ground.   
They take his body beneath their leaves   
So he shall never hence be found.

And his mocking grave stands still   
The colours over ride   
Any thought that pain has been   
That an angel, here has died.

---------------------------------------------

In a system of chance,   
and ill formed plans   
God gives you a pen,   
then tears off your hands.

-Pirate

* * *

Midnight blue, bedding a little wraith of white. Infectious stars. Disrupting the cycle, insinuating years of pain.

Zooming through the unspoken words that create all tomes of time, till there is a sudden stop.

The shadow-infested man writhes in his sleep, his mind is troubled. The jewel of the fair boy's soul haunts him...and with each memory that flashes by, he dies a little...inside.

_I am Draco, and I am in pain. I hurt and bleed like everyone else, but the difference between them and me is that...that they can cry._

_Do you understand how much a single tear means to me? To daddy? Cause that's what I call him. In the private depths of my chained up heart, I cry. Sitting on his lap, my head on his shoulder, whimpering "Daddy"...I cry._

--_---------------------------------------------_

_I am older now. And I am no longer Draco, I am Mr. Malfoy. I no longer hurt, I no longer cry. Why? Because there are no tears on the uniform. No, no tears allowed at all._

_------------------------------------------------_

_The heart of an ice sculpture, the mind of a snake, and the ass of a god. Or so I am told. Every night...every single FUCKING time, he...defiles me and-and-and...I can't take it anymore. I DO hurt, I DO cry, and I really, really would just like to die._

_------------------------------------------------_

_I don't want to be touched, or be put through this...this, "Love" is what he calls it. He tells me only his true followers are his...lovers. I can't even whisper the word without bitterness in my voice._

_I want to be able to go to sleep and dream. To sleep through one night without waking up screaming. To be able to move without feeling the telltale fire in my backside. I want..._

_I want to be able to look Crabbe and Goyle in the face and not think about the fact that they have seen me whipped, bloody, naked, and begging on a hot flagstone courtyard. And, oh, of course it's hot...the Devil's circle is never cold._

_----------------------------------------_

_I am not Draco. Nor am I Mr. Malfoy. I am...broken. Do you know what happened tonight? No, of course you don't, how could you? How could you...possibly imagine, what I went through?_

_He took me through the brothel, bringing me to each door, leaving when he didn't find what he wanted. Until...finally, he stopped. Right in front...of Snape. My godfather, who through many spells, enchanted the mirrors across the walls to reflect to the Death Eater meeting. And the whips and the leather...it...it hurt so, so badly. And, of course he just stood there. Watching, laughing...smiling. Why did you not stop them? Why, daddy?_

_...why?_

_------------------------------------------_

_A slender young boy stands tall and proud. He has passed the tests and graduated at the top of his class. He rolls up his sleeve and winks, showing the stark, shameful tattoo on his left forearm. Gently jutting his chest out, showing the Slytherin badge, he spits on the girl who lies crying at his feet. Her robes are soiled and she sobs, only raising her face long enough to show the cat like eyes and an array of frizzy hair. Hermione Granger._

_I turn away from the reflection and laugh bitterly. A dry sound that forces it's way out till the room echoes with my pain. Even my soul, reflects what my father wants._

_---------------------------------------------_

_Recently, my shame has increased. That blasted Harry-bloody-Potter! How DARE he be better than I? At POTIONS of all things. I just might kill myself. But you know what, this is what my father wants._

_He has drilled into me that I must be the best, but you know what? I'm not. Potter is, Granger is and now...I really don't really care._

_And I don't think that I ever shall, not ever again._

_Never._

Startled awake, the dark one shot up, and out of bed, landing on the floor. Liquid in the form of bullets dropped off of him at an excellerating pace. Wiping his forehead on his arm, he looked at the bed. Staring into the broken-glass eyes of his charge, he saw lagoons of sadness, hurt, and pain. But no anger. Was it possible that his father, who had tormented him so often, had at last dragged out every ounce of fury in ?

Looking him straight in the eye, the fair dragon whispered, "Well now you know." Turned over, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Yes, this boy was no longer human. Lucius was dead, but his legacy lived.

Tearing his eyes from the skinny form, the dark one stepped out of the room, walked down the hall to the bathroom, and vomited.

The worst part is...he knows that he has not yet touched what hurt the dragon so badly. When such a word is spoken, it is heard throughout the lands, such a word...

Never.

* * *

-Pirate Bitch nut

**badboyblondEsgurl**- Thank you so much for your reviews! And I just wanted to let you know that my letter has not arrived yet, because (A) Hell week has just ended (championships...we lost, don't ask) And (B) I have been sick with the flu for the past moth and a half. I'm still not quite over it. I'm really, really sorry, but remember to keep writing! You're really, really good and you touch on edgy topics that are tabboo for others, keep on honing your talent. I'll try my damndest to get the letter out but I can't promise anything.

**silver emerald eyes**- Aww, you flatter me...here's your update, lovely!

**BehindGreenEyes**- Thanks so much blushes here's for you!

**theTigersFire**- Thank you so, so much for your advice, it really has helped. You've been very kind in your reviews, and I hope this was adequate.

**MissJinny**- Eek! You used my favourite word! Fantabulous, SQUEE! Anyway, I hope you liked this update.

**Virginia C. Weasley**- thanks for your kind wods, they really did mean a lot to me. I've been sick for a while and it really helps when people are supportive. I hope you liked this chapter!

**silver emerald eyes**- hey, if there is any sex, it'll be soft R so you needn't worry. Thanks for your support. I dedicate my work to reviewers like you. I hope you enjoyed this!

I'm sick. We lost championships. The whole band season has been a waste, and I have not updated once. I feel like shit, please wait to flame for another week.


	7. Somethign magical

Draco creeps out of his bed, hastening to his stone. Opening the box, he lets his hand hover over the sparkling opal, and as he does, he lets out all of his fears. And for the first time he thinks the most traitorous thought: his best friend is a rock, how sad.

But he doesn't know when he will be allowed to see his stone again, and the precious, for so many more reasons, gem is still his very best friend. So he milks this moment for all he is worth. His throat is too sore from his earlier dramatics with Potter, and his eyes hurt just as much. He doesn't know he has cried in his sleep. But as he grasps his stone for what he believes is the last time, something happens.

Something magical.

The sound of his breathing is a deep and sorrowful bassoon, and his first gasp in the otherwise silence begins the piercing yet melodic oboe. Wavering in the air for a precious moment in time, his shuddering exhale is the entrance of the orchestra. He falls to the ground as softly as the lullaby that plays in the air around him. His stone glimmers in the moonlight as every beautiful Chopin piece he has ever heard plays round and round in his head.

His kneeling form trembles on the floor and he is washed gently with memories of salty wind caressing his face and sand on his cheek as he wakes from a nap.  
Standing amongst thousands, screaming as the androgynous man on stage strikes the first chord of his favorite song.  
Singing in the shower, holding the mobile showerhead and falling into hysterics as it accidentally hits his face, water spurting up his nose.  
The feeling of holding hands with someone he loves, not seeing their face, but their soul.  
Flying around the pitch, feeling nothing but…freedom.

Draco gasped and his opal fell to the floor, breaking in half as it hit the granite. The orchestra broke leaving only a screaming violin. An awakening that left him breathless.

He was free.


End file.
